The Final Protectors Chapter 1

16th November, a cloudy and overcast day.

On an island near the coast, a ceremony was currently being held. Every year, the Adoratt Festival will attract tourists from every part of the entire world.

Adoratt Island faced the ocean. On the island was a mountain with ancient traces of manmade reworking. Each layer spiralled upwards. On top, row after row of tombstones had formed a cl.u.s.ter of crosses. Using the same silent pose, they pointed towards the sky and stood upright for over a thousand years. The corners were already filled with the growth of spotted mosses.

This island was the famous, widely-known Adoratt Cemetery.

A low grievous bell tolled on the mountaintop. The sounds of humans were miniscule; each visitor could not help but to maintain their silence.

Because this place was the final resting place for the heroes.

Word said that Adoratt Cemetery was first built two thousand years ago with the funds that the Temple raised, and the ones buried here the earliest were the Knight Templars who gave their lives to resist the invasion of other species.

This tradition continued until today. If someone died and the Temple gave their agreement for him or her to lay to rest in Adoratt Cemetery, then the deceased's partner, parents or children will be able to obtain the glory of not being liable to taxation⁠—so as to honour this citizen's exceptional contribution before death.

As for the festive tradition on the 16th of November, it had started from a war one thousand and two hundred years ago.

Back then, an evil cult who had named themselves the "Black Robes" had risen throughout the whole land. They were like the notorious Black Plague, engulfing dozens of kingdoms. In order to deal with this group of imbeciles, every kingdom on land befallen with catastrophes finally decided to form allied armies under the direction of the Temple Archbishop in the State of Salla.

After three years of war, this pioneer organisation with a fearsome ideology finally vanished in the end.

It was on this day, the 16th of November, that the leader of Black Robes⁠—the leader of the fearsome ideology who had a limited creativity and proclaimed himself as Satan, Paula⁠—was killed off, and thus dramatically ended the long three years of war. 

The name of the hero who killed off the Big Bad was still spread even until today. His name was Karlos Fraruitt.

At the Adoratt Cemetery a thousand and two hundred years later, a golden-haired handsome man and the aged graveyard watchman stopped in front of the tombstone written with this name. Beside the tombstone, there was a statue of Karlos Fraruitt—he was donned in heavy armor and helmet, which revealed underneath a pair of well-built arms and muscles. The shape of his face was square and proper, with a pair of stern, deep eyes that looked towards the sea in the distance and his expression was calm.

The mid-back-length hair of the blond man was tied behind his head and was blown by the wind into a slight mess. He had a pair of warm, light brown eyes hidden behind rimless gla.s.ses. They were slightly squinting as he stared at the statue in front of him. "Did Karlos look like this? Before my mother married, her last name was Fraruitt, but we still didn't have a single portrait of him that he left in our house."

The watcher followed his gaze as he raised his head. "Karlos Fraruitt was like an apparition, never leaving any portraits of himself throughout his entire life. After the Rebellion of the Black Robes, he lost even more correspondence with the world, no longer leaving any of his records. Even this tombstone which was built to commemorate him only has an empty coffin buried underneath. He was like someone who has never existed.

The blond man laughed. "If he didn't exist, then the children who grew up listening to his stories are going to revolt."

"No matter what, the Adoratt Festival certainly had a connection to this person." The watcher also grinned. "Speaking of which… Jel, why did the Temple send you, a person stumped with work, for this year's commemoration day?"

"It's my turn to be a coach for the rookies. I'm going back to the Temple tomorrow and I happened to pa.s.s by Adoratt, so I came over to visit you." Jel stretched lazily. The faraway sea breeze gently blew towards his face. "I just finished a job a.s.signment. In the future, I'll have a vacation for a whole two weeks… Honestly speaking, I nearly forgot how to spell the word 'vacation'."

The watcher turned around, looking at the people at the foot of the mountain partic.i.p.ating in the festival.

There were men and women, old and young, of a variety of ages, who spoke different languages and had different skin colors. Yet, they all looked at this plot of slope filled with the deceased with respect.

The watcher pointed the walking stick at the base of the mountain. "Just look at them, and you'll feel that your hard work is worth it. The Temple will always be proud of you all."

At this time, the memorial service was already near its end. The grievous bell tolls stopped and a group of children in white walked forward in a line, releasing the doves in their hands. It was only then that the visitors walked over in turn, taking the white flowers at their bosoms to put each one at the base of the mountain.

The guide's clear, slow voice was carried over by the wind. "The earliest Adoratt Festival was to commemorate our great hero, Karlos Fraruitt. Legend says that he was born into a n.o.ble family and was the youngest son. He was sent to the Temple to study at a young age…"

"The Temple accepted him not because he was the young son of a n.o.ble family." The watcher supported himself with his walking stick as he slowly turned around, walking down the mountain. Jel did not hurry to follow after him. Instead, he stretched out a finger to lightly twirl in the air.

Then, a magical thing happened. One blooming white rose opened up between his fingers unnoticeably. He bent over, placing that flower that seemed to still have dewdrops on at the foot of the statue. It was only then that he stepped over and caught up with the aged person.

Small, slender vines suddenly grew out of the rose that was put down, gently wrapping around the statue's feet, like a flower crown planted at its feet.

"In that time period, the 'Barrier' had not been constructed yet, and the world wasn't this peaceful either. 'Decays' were everywhere. The esoteric records said that when Karlos was only a child, a Decay had slipped into the Fraruitt's nursery. At the time, a 'Templar Hunter', who was the old Mr. Fraruitt's friend, happened to be a guest at his residence. When they rushed over, they found that unfortunate Decay so scared by the infant's crying that it curled up into a ball."

"Ah, right. The legendary natural affinity of light." Jel adjusted his spectacles and shrugged his shoulders. "A special case among billions of people. It was said that the Fraruitts only produced one such genius in its thousand years of history. While me, his unlucky descendant, just spent my teenage years in his shadow like this."

"He wasn't that lucky as what you imagined." The watcher grinned as he glanced at him. "What everyone doesn't know is that this genius' life wasn't smooth sailing."

It was Jel's first time to even hear someone talk about this honourable, yet mysterious ancestor of his, so he couldn't help but turn his head around. "How so?"

"He had been banished by the Temple once." The watcher sighed, lowering his voice and saying, "He was originally a young master endlessly spoiled, but in those years, he wandered around everywhere, alone the whole time, under an alias of 'John Smith'. For many years, he didn't show his face and no one knew where he went. It was only until the darkest war opened its curtains that he once again appeared out of thin air in front of everyone."

"Banished?" Jel furrowed his brows. "Why?"

"Paula wasn't like what the people thought⁠—a leader of some evil cult or whatever. In reality, he was a 'Hunter' of the Temple who betrayed his own belief and was possessed by Satan." The gravewatcher said. "Paula sabotaged Karlos. Yet, this stubborn hero of a few words had for some reason, not explained himself. After that war, just when all of the truth was revealed and just when the Temple planned on amending their mistakes and returning the glory back to this most loyal and courageous child of theirs, he once again disappeared mysteriously. From then on, he never appeared again, rejecting the reconciliation with the Temple in the most headstrong manner."

Jel chased with a question. "Do you think he walked out sulking then?"

"Who knows? But I once found a few pages from the Archbishop Leo Aldo's diaries in the esoteric doc.u.ments. Handwritten on parchment and twisted multiple times, a great half of them have already been damaged afterwards. Even the words were smudged. On a page with a corner lost, there was a line that had 'Karlos' written thrice in an extremely messy handwriting. The power penetrated through the back of the paper, so a few phrases were missing, but you can faintly make out an incomplete 'sorry'." The watcher walked down the staircase with some difficulty, thanking but rejecting Jel's support. "Enough, kid. Although I'm just an oldie now, I'm not yet at the stage I can't move."

"The greatest Archbishop, Leo Aldo?"

"Yes, if we calculate their age, the time Archbishop Aldo enrolled in the Temple was practically the same time as Karlos Fraruitt. There was a rumor that they used to be very good friends, but it seemed that… their relationship had broken up in the end." The watcher walked down the long staircase step by step, slight sweat on his forehead. "But did that matter? From that instant hunters are enrolled in the Temple, they've already sworn to protect this land, unchanging even in death. Regardless of whether Karlos wanted the glory bestowed by the Temple, he would always appear when the people needed him, even if the Temple no longer gave him his remunerations."

Jel contemplated and said, "Actually, I've always thought it was very strange. That the drawn-out war that continued for such a long time would actually end because of someone. Of course, logically, we all know that was not possible."

"About this, the best speculations of the Temple's historians are that this was an intended move on the side of the Temple back then, as a compensation to the stubborn child who won't forgive it and left home. Yet, even if this was so, Karlos still vanished like this. Of course, this was also very strange. When the hunters were children, they were already chosen to enter the Temple, to live and learn there. Right down to their bones, they love the Temple just like they love their home, even if they've once suffered injustice and humiliation… So some people say that the reason Karlos vanished was actually because he died in that war. It was just that the war was so fierce that no one could recognize his corpse."

Many years had pa.s.sed now. The "Temple" itself had already become a religious symbol. Every year, they accepted a great amount of tourists, and even started a new tourism business. After many old hunters had retired, they once again returned to the Temple to work as guides. Of course, the content were made-up nonsense⁠—the Temple's unified product.

And the jobs that the Templar Hunters that were once called "Knights"—along with the development in jobs and science⁠—moved underground too, becoming an unknown line of work.

The Decays hunted humans; the hunters hunted Decays.

No one could say with certainty, about what Decays were exactly, where they came from, and why they would appear in this world.

Decays were a type of living species. Because they could be killed⁠—they consumed humans as food. Some loved blood, some loved organs, some loved brains, some loved the souls.

Many years ago, they were akin to wild dogs in the countryside, poking their heads out from a corner at any time, greedily dooling over their prey; they used to be one of the greatest enemies of the human species on this bustling land.

The strongest existence that could commend other Decays were called "Satan" or Devil". The "Rebellion of the Black Robes" in that year was, in truth, not a revolution by a group of refugees, but the Devil's descendant, who possessed Parola. Throughout the entire human history, the "Devil" only descended twice. The first time was far too long ago to be considered. And the second time was during the famous "Rebellion of the Black Robes."

As for why exactly such a calamity happened, the scholars of the Temple remained debating it throughout thousands of years, but they still had not reached a conclusion.

After the Rebellion of the Black Robes, the Archbishop Leo Aldo used up all of his life energy to lead a group of great hunters to construct a barrier, ending the dark times where Decays ran amok in the streets. It was also for this that the Archbishop gave his life.

Just like this, the peaceful times arrived under the protection of their ancestors' sacrifices. Since then, there had already been a thousand years since the land experienced the revolution of the Decays. Only a spa.r.s.e few slipped through the gaps of the Barrier's net into the human realm, and their power would also be greatly lessened⁠, so they'll be very quickly caught by the hunters.

Such that although the people still remember the heros' names, their accomplishments had already been turned into a muddy confusion.

But… it wasn't actually a bad thing either.

Jel Shelton. His mother's last name was Fraruitt. As the final descendant of the Fraruitts, he graduated from the Temple when he was eighteen. When he was twenty-two, he received the Golden Emblem that signified the "Best Hunter", becoming the youngest Golden Emblem Hunter in three hundred years.

This of course had to be credited to the "Fraruitt" blood. It did not mean that the minuscule bit of genes was still inherited after a thousand years, but this name, "Karlos" was like a dark shadow, engulfing his entire teenage years and forcing Jel to become strong.

According to the rules of the Temple, every year, the newly graduated hunters will have outstanding seniors⁠—the great majority were Golden Emblem hunters, who would be their coaches for a year, guiding them in their jobs until the rookies were able to work independently. This year, it was finally his turn.

Tonight, after partic.i.p.ating in the Adoratt Festival, Jel firstly returned to his house in the State of Salla.

He lived in a small cottage in the Mid Mountains area. The salary from the Temple had always been very ample. He made use of the advantage from his job position to travel everywhere, providing a few fashion magazine companies with photography ma.n.u.scripts. He even published a few travel books, so he also had a considerable reputation. These author's remuneration also brought him a considerable amount of earnings.

The Mid Mountains area was a cla.s.sic area for the wealthy. The distance between each residence was larger than most and they won't cause any disturbance to each other, but they also won't be too far away. There was a unified community service and in the community, there were supermarkets and even schools. It was extremely convenient. 

He reversed the car into the garage. There was a gardener who tended to the plants in the garden in a set schedule. Even if he didn't return for half a year or one whole year, it didn't look too horrifying either. Jel whistled light-heartedly, feeling his body fill with the lazy joy of being able to go home and rest.

Right at this time, a slight shaking came from the ground. Jel was not concerned⁠—the places by the sea would occasionally have some small harmless earthquakes. The majority were under 4 in the Ritcher's scale, and won't cause very large damage. But after the slight shaking, a sound suddenly came from the green shrubs behind him. Like something had dropped.

It wasn't a squirrel, neither was it a cat or a dog… Jel halted his steps for a moment. He felt like this should probably be an animal of an even bigger size. In the Mid Mountains area, some larger herbivores would frequently intrude.

A hint of blood was in the air. He followed the smell as he walked over and found that an edge of a human's clothing was peeking out of the shrubs.

Jel lightened his steps subconsciously, a hand at his side as he cautiously pushed away the shrubs. Then he saw… that there laid a person⁠—a man.

The man's long hair was in an incredibly tangled mess, falling out of a faded and discolored headband. Dust and dried blood covered his entire face and half of his body. He was wearing a tattered robe and his chest was already wet with blood. It soaked through the entire bandage originally wrapped there and revealed those horrific scars that covered every inch of his skin.

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